


Tongue Tied

by simpheart



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Confessions, F/F, Pining, but the middle is disgustingly sweet, happens during tressa's chapter 4, if you close one eye and squint there's therion/alfyn, kinda a continuation from my previous fic, references both Ophilia and Primrose's chapter 3s, so minor spoilers ig, some like tressa/primrose but in a familiy-like sense, the last part is a little messy and I'm not sure how I feel about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25542580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpheart/pseuds/simpheart
Summary: A well needed conversation lingers on Ophilia's tongue, but there's always something -- or someone, to interrupt her.
Relationships: Primrose Azelhart/Ophilia Clement
Kudos: 28





	Tongue Tied

“Tressa ran off quite quickly, didn’t she?” Ophilia quirps as she idly rubs digits through her hair. She finds comfort in the breeze that Grandport brings, although it’s still a bit too warm for her liking. Primrose next to her gives a short nod, her attention striking elsewhere as Therion rolls his eyes at the idle talk. 

Olberic smiles as he speaks. “Aye, though it seems she is quite excited to continue her journey.” H’aanit agrees, her words not quite reaching Ophilia who’s attention shifts. 

Primrose scouts ahead, and though Ophilia wants to follow Alfyn has other plans for her. It’s hard with his cheeky smile for her to decline and she agrees with a tinge of reluctance. Surprisingly, Therion and Cyrus join them. Cyrus and Alfyn quickly begin chatter, of their journeys so far, and what to come. The cleric chirps in when needing, her mind drifting to the brunette as Therion pouts his way along. Though Ophilia is certain she saw a ghost of a smile at one of Alfyn’s many corny jokes.

She finds an excuse and parts ways with them after a short while, all too sure to know that Therion would eventually tag them along to the tavern for drinks. Thankfully, it isn’t hard to locate Primrose, whose gaze is as fierce as ever. 

The dancer gives Ophilia a look, perhaps one that lingers too long but it goes unnoticed. “I’m surprised they bought that,” she says as the blonde joins her, leaning against the railing. The ocean waves brush against the stone wall supporting the bridge. “But perhaps they were all caught up in one another.”

Ophilia shoots her a curious look, but decides not to press the topic further. “Have you heard from Tressa at all?”

“I haven’t sought her out,” Primrose keeps her sights on the coast. “She’s capable of handling herself.”

An odd pain of guilt hits the blonde, and she finds herself frowning before she can stop herself. After all this time, does she still seem  _ that _ defenseless? Perhaps it isn’t too much to think after what went down in Goldshore. 

“Hon, you still wear that face?”

“Huh—?” Ophilia nearly jumps, completely caught off guard. Primrose’s voice is smooth yet layered with concern. “No, I mean…” trailing off, the cleric shifts her gaze away. She finds it hard to keep her composure under her companion’s attention. “I was just thinking back to Goldshore.”

She misses the way Primrose’s smile falls slightly, the way her lips part momentarily before she speaks. “Ophilia,” a hand reaches out in comfort, but never comes to. “The strength you showed me that day was remarkable.” 

“I pray you’re right, Prim.” Though her voice is firm, there is some gentleness to it. “I still think back to it — how Lianna spoke, that she believes that our Father could easily be so resurrected.”

Primrose remains silent for a moment, letting the ocean breeze fill the gap. “Do you still ache from the news?”

“About my father?” Ophilia finally turns to look at Primrose, who’s expression grows more solemn. It aches the blonde to have this conversation with someone who’s fought so long for revenge. “Admittedly, I do a little bit. I think what hurts more is —“

“Ah! There you two are.” 

Primrose narrows her eyes, retreating her hand that is about to reach Ophilia’s own. Always one for bad timing, Cyrus stands before them with a new book opened and in his hands. Ophilia gives him a pleasant smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I hope you weren’t looking for us for long.”

“Not at all dear! Now, I do believe that the rest were meeting up ahead.” His eyes didn’t leave the book, not that the two particularly minded. “I suspect the two of you will come along once you’re…” he pauses and a scheming look is present as he glances between them. “Done with your chat, yes? See you then.”

And as quick as he is there, he walks off. 

Primrose sighs before pushing herself away from the railing. “That’s our cue, dear.” Her voice holds disappointment, and for what the blonde isn’t sure. Pushing her unpleasant thoughts aside, she gives a quick nod, following suit until they finally spot Tressa and a girl near her own age.

Tressa, who’s naturally all smiles, speaks happily though her words aren’t heard from such a distance. Ophilia finds some sort of content in this and hums. She’s not sure how long they remain idle, simply enjoying each other’s company before Primrose’s sultry voice startles her. 

“A little bird told me you never left my side that night.” 

Ophilia feels her face growing in heat before she can sputter out words. “W-well of course! As a healer I had to make sure…” the blonde begins to frown as she recalls that night. The amount of blood that coated Primrose, how she couldn’t but fear for the worse. Her heart stings at the thought of nearly losing the dancer.

Primrose wears a knowing smile. “That’s all, dear?” Though the sentence is delivered with a tint of disappointment, there is something close to hope that lingers in her gaze.

Ophilia is silent as she tries to collect herself. She’s unsure how to be so bold in saying what is lingering at the back of her mind, why her face is always warm and butterflies who fly in her stomach. But Primrose has proven countless times now to be thoughtful and understanding…

“Well… a-actually, I was worried about you, Prim. I was afraid.” Her voice is soft, almost passable to be missed by the ever going breeze. She’s never felt so vulnerable in her life, never even admitting such things out loud to herself. “I know how  _ strong _ you are — oh um..”

Primrose chuckles, her gaze set hard on Ophilia. 

“You know… with your determination.” Her face is getting warmer by the minute, isn’t there anyone who could possibly jump in and save her from this embarrassment? “I didn’t want to lose you, Prim. You’re…”

Nodding, the brunette shifts her weight. A hand gracefully reaches out and brushes Ophilia’s hair behind her ear. Primrose wears a soft smile, her lips parting to speak. “I felt the same way, you know. With what happened back in Goldshore.” Her expression falls, and Ophilia wants nothing more than to see that smile. “I had an inkling something was wrong, but I was afraid my trust was too skewed after Simeon.”

Primrose’s hand lingers. If Ophilia had an ounce more of courage, she’d lean into the touch. “None of you could have known better.”

“I could say the same about Simeon.” Bitterness is clear in the dancer’s voice, and she makes no effort to hide it. “Had I trusted my instinct you’d still be with the sacred flame.”

Ophilia’s eyes light up. “There’s no way I’d let you take blame for this!” Her hands take Primrose’s own, squeezing them tight as she stares her companion down. “What happened that night is purely on me!”

Primrose isn’t able to respond as Tressa approaches with a gleaming look. Although infectious, Ophilia is upset that their mood is ruined once again. Not to mention how close she was to finally telling her feelings. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Primrose invites her to the shore, when Tressa has run off again later. The boys end up going shopping at the festival and H’aanit decides it’s a good moment to spend with Linde. As her companion strides on ahead, Ophilia can’t help but feel butterflies that are residing. Is this the chance to finally convey how she’s been feeling for several months now?

Ophilia approaches the beach carefully, removing her cloak with ease and letting the sun practically cook her alive. She begins to take a mental note that the breeze isn’t quite enough to keep her cool like Flamesgrace’s constant winter.

The blonde finds Primrose in the sand, facing the approaching waves and idly passing time. Ophilia can’t help but wonder what is going on in her mind.

“I still can’t get used to how wondrous the ocean is,” she offers as she takes a seat. Primrose beams at her and offers a polite nod. “It’s nothing like back in Flamesgrace.”

“It’s quite beautiful isn’t it? Much like someone I know.” Sly with her words, the brunette offers a wink before pressing on. “I was hoping to continue our conversation, before Tressa found us.”

Ophilia hugs her knees close to her body, suddenly feeling embarrassed for the compliment. Hearing the words from Primrose’s mouth to her feels incorrect almost. For all that Ophilia hopes, she never thought it to be true that her dearest friend feels the same way. “You do? Surely it could be left at where it did…”

Truthfully, Ophilia wishes for the opposite.

“Is that what you sincerely want dear? I’m not here to press any boundaries but…” Primrose trails off, and if Ophilia has to put a word on it, she looks hurt. “I thought there was something else you wanted to say.”

_ Of course there is! _ Ophilia wants to say,  _ I want to keep you happy for as long as I can! _

Instead a pathetic “Well…” sputters from her mouth.

It’s enough though, she realizes, as the edges of Primrose’s lips curve to create a smile. “Go on dear, I’m all ears.” Carefully, a hand rests on top of Ophilia’s own and for the first time in weeks, she hasn’t felt safer.

“I told you I was afraid, right? With what happened in Noblecourt… I finally realized something.” Ophilia’s voice does her best to keep her voice even, though the whole situation is catching up to her. The warmth of Primrose’s hand is helping, to some extent. “You mean a lot to me, Prim. A-and not just in some kind of… you know…”

She feels like it’s burning outside. Like the sun is going to melt her as Primrose stares her down. How the brunette nods slowly, her long hair draping over her shoulders as she leans forward. A sincere look that burns in her eyes. Ophilia is only wishing for Alferic to take mercy and put her out of this embarrassment.

With a deep breath, she attempts to continue. “I remember how terrified I was, spending a restless night by your side. And then another — at some point Alfyn had to tear me away.” She lets out a sheepish laugh as she recalls how pathetically she refused. “I think it was then, when I was dragged away to another room when I brought myself to a prayer it all started to make sense. I didn’t want to be without you, Primrose.”

“I know,” is all Primrose says, brushing back her hair to get a better look at Ophilia. Her smile is genuine and bright, something that the cleric has only seen a handful of times. 

Ophilia blinks. And once again as her brain is trying to process. “Wait… you do?!”

Primrose laughs, and it’s likely the most wholehearted thing the blonde hears her whole trip. “Of course.” She says as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “It clicked after our stay in Goldshore. I spoke with Tressa, and she brought up how you refused to leave my side.” 

“Bu—“

“— You’re a cleric, right? I’ve heard the excuse before,” a finger lays on Ophilia’s lips, and her blush deepens. “You only stayed as long as you needed with everyone else, Ophilia. I’ve been watching you longer than you think.”

The blonde is only staring, half in disbelief that this is happening, and because she’s too tongue tied to get anything else out. She focuses on her breathing as Primrose stays close, her finger remaining ever so lightly on her lips. 

“Plus I’d be lying if I wasn’t feeling the same way when your sister drugged you.”

Her jaw drops. At least she thinks so. Ninety nine percent sure it does. “You — wait… you do? What?” Unsure of what she wants for words, Ophilia shakes her head and grabs Primrose’s hand. “ _ Me _ ? But… I’m just some cleric over her head.”

“Must you always hang your head that low, dear?” Primrose sighs, and the blonde feels a tinge of guilt for even speaking. “Ophilia you’re beautiful, kind and gentle hearted. You’ve been there for me countless times, out of your own selflessness.”

She might faint. In fact, when she’s alone later in the tavern she will. She lets Primrose reach her hand to her cheek, accepting the gentle caress that follows. She swears that she’s dreaming. 

“You’ve never spoken badly about my journey, never called me a sinner on my quest for revenge.” Primrose’s voice is soft as she brushes her thumb along Ophilia’s cheek. “In fact, you prayed for me. You’ve given me countless times the strength to carry on, to help me find the faith for which I keep fighting on. The faith that is my shield.”

Lost for words, the blonde closes her eyes and embraces the moment. Cloud nine isn’t that bad, after all. 

“Ophilia, may I?”

Primrose is closer than she anticipates as she opens her eyes. An unsteady breath leaves her lips as she can nearly count every eyelash, the perfect eyebrows that she can’t help but wonder how long it took. “Oh…! Um.” With a hesitant nod, she manages a yes. 

Truthfully, she had absolutely no qualms to having her first proper kiss be with Primrose. She merely has no idea what she actually needs to do, but it seems her companion is more than capable and she’s not surprised at all. 

It’s not as magical as she’s always dreamed it to be, but she doesn’t mind too much. Primrose’s lips are soft and full, knowing very well how to heighten an admittedly quick kiss. Ophilia isn’t sure which organ is going to cease first; her heart or her lungs. Her mind is empty as her heart pounds against her chest. The only thing she’s able to do is stare Primrose down as the women’s soft laugh is drowned out.

Primrose moves in to kiss her again, but she’s cut short as an awkward -- and very much so at that -- sound that can nearly be called as someone clearing their voice reaches their ears. Reluctantly the two break eye contact and find Therion, who’s likely wishing he isn’t the one who gets to walk in on this. 

“The kid needs our help.”

* * *

  
  


Ophilia struggles for a breath as her arms shake from extensive magic usage. Warily she lowers her staff as Olberic charges in for a strike as Esmerelda makes an attempt to get back to her feet. The woman is fast to block his blow, making way for a counter attack with impressive speed. 

Primrose is suddenly past Ophilia, her house dagger clenched as she remains under the radar from Esmerelda. Olberic attempts another blow that gets parried as Tressa rests nearby the cleric to regain some strength. 

Olberic notices Primrose’s stealth and draws his blade back to gather his strength. With a big breath, he shouts “My blade is unbending!” before unleashing a powerful blow. Before it lands Primrose eases her way closer and digs her dagger into Esmerelda’s thigh, causing the woman to stagger. A loud scream echoes the sewers, bouncing off the walls and aching the cleric’s ear drums.

Tressa shouts from Ophilia’s side, rushing forward with such ferocity. With a lance in hand, she leaps and uses the blunt end to push the cunning woman over. Mustering the last of her strength, Ophilia casts a holy spell that engulfs her further. Dropping to a knee, the blonde weakly looks on as Olberic begins to sheath his blade.

She’s not sure how much time is passing, focusing on steadying her breath. Tressa begins to approach, with a bright smile and her journal in hand. Behind her is Olberic and Primrose who is idly cleaning the blood off her dagger. Briefly she gazes upon Esmerelda who keeps a dark look in her eyes.

“Hon,” Primrose’s voice is like sugar compared to the screams she just previously heard. A hand rests on her back, and she’s not entirely sure who’s. “Are you alright?”

Ophilia nods as she begins to stand. Things seem to spin but she does her best to still herself. “Yes,” her breath is short as she uses her staff to support her weight. “I think I used a bit too magic there, but I’m okay.”

Primrose looks as though she wants to say something, but Tressa is faster. “If you’re sure, we should probably get out of here! The showcase is going to start soon!”

With a firm nod, Ophilia follows after Tressa’s large joyous strides. She’s not sure how far they were walking, but eventually they reach back to the bazar. Olberic chases after Tressa who rushes inside with a grand smile. It’s practically infectious and despite her fatigue Ophilia is smiling herself. 

“You’re not going to join them?” Ophilia muses as she leans further on her staff. Primrose glances to where the others run off to and shrugs. “She really admires you, Prim. I’m sure she’d have extra confidence with you there.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Ophilia finds herself humming in agreement. She lets her gaze linger on Primrose whose attention is lost somewhere to the crowd. Recalling what happened earlier in the day, she takes a deep breath and takes a step closer. Carefully, she frees a hand from her staff and tentatively reaches out to the idle one of Primrose’s own.

She stops herself.  _ Is it too soon to do such a thing? _

Shaking her head, Ophilia steels herself and returns her hand to support herself. Another time, she tells herself. 

“Hey… Primrose?” 

Said woman hums in response, finally bringing her attention back to Ophilia.

“About what we talked about… and  _ did _ .” She feels her blush coming back in full force. Carefully she brushes a few strands of hair behind her hair and offers a small smile. “What does this make of us?”

Primrose raises a brow and coos. “Well what do you think, dear?”

“Well, um…” Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Ophilia continues. “I… I like you Primrose, and more than just friends! I can only hope you do too.”

Primrose is silent.

Ophilia thinks her heart breaks a little bit, but she does her best to put a bold front. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I understand.”

The brunette is fast, not that Ophilia should be surprised. “I think you’ve misunderstood.” The words are nearly whispered as Primrose closes in on her and easily rests her hands on the cleric’s hips. “I want you, Ophilia.”

“Oh.” 

Her brain takes a few minutes to catch up. 

“ _ Oh! _ ” At once she’s dropping her staff and leaning into Primrose. Part of it is due to her lack of current strength, and just maybe that she wants to be as close as she possibly could to her. She can only listen to the ocean waves and her beating heart. Shifting, Ophilia gazes up at Primrose who wears a content smile. “Prim…? I want you too.”

Ophilia definitely could get used to this.


End file.
